The Change
by Jacob Jackson
Summary: Dean and Sam. Season 4 . Dean notices a change. Not just a change of his feelings for his brother either. Some slash, lots of hinting/innuendo, some gore... Chapters 1-4. Completed for now, but I might have a secondary story in mind.
1. Chapter 1 A young girl

As Dean awoke, he felt strong, scarred arms around his shoulders, holding his naked body tight against a firm and muscular frame. His first reaction was to struggle, to figure out why he was naked in a strange room with a nude someone pressed against him. Then, he inhaled and smelled the musk. A mixture of cotton, cinnamon, and sun invaded his nostrils and he felt safe. It was a familiar scent, one that he'd had in his life for years, it equalled comfort, trust, and protection. He was home.

_Flashback 24 hours ago....._

With beautiful women all around him, Dean sits in his chair, amused with his situation. Each woman is wearing a simple glittery g-string and not much else. His hands linger on each pair of supple breasts, caressing nipple after nipple, not really seeing the faces in this sea of flesh.

Not until her, that is.

A blonde, killer body, curvaceous, red dress is sitting by the bar, her hair almost glowing in the bar's dim lighting. Licking his lips suggestively, Dean saunters over to her, trying to ignore the sudden urge he has developed to ravage this woman in the red dress right here and now, over the bar stool, regardless of who was watching. She looked up to him, smiling. There was a glimmer there, in her eyes, just for a moment, something familiar in them but Dean wasn't thinking about that now. All he wanted was the scent of her in his nose, the taste of her on his lips...

"_She's hot."_ Dean mumbles to no one in particular, his eyes focused on the woman. His entire world is her. There is no sun, there is no war, there is only this angel with the blonde flowing hair. Dean musters up his best smirk and sits down beside her, turning in her direction to introduce himself to this beauty.

Unfortunately, now that Dean is within a few feet of her, he's utterly speechless.

She smells of cinnamon and peaches and her skin looks smooth to the touch. Her eyes are a cool blue colour, obvious even in the light of the bar, and they are moist and attentive. They are locked on Dean.

Casting a nervous smile at her, Dean turns away to order a drink. He turns back and meets her eyes again. She hasn't shifted her gaze. It's still locked on him, as if the rest of the bar has vanished from existence. Her hand rests casually on his knee and she leans forward towards Dean. He swallows hard, unsure why he's so overcome with nerves as she leans in closer, her lips, such a luscious red, getting closer to his face. Dean licks his lips, in preparation for possibly the best kiss he's ever had. His heart quickens, his pulse races, beads of sweat form on his brow, and yet, still she comes towards him. Oddly enough, as she moves forward, she runs her hands, colder than he expected, on his neck and gently moves his head to the side, so that she can whisper to him. Dean leans forward a bit as well, so that he can hear the words he's been waiting for. He pauses, as she's stopped moving towards him, takes a deep breath and asks her name.

There is no denying the sparkle in her eyes, the slight hint of a smirk on her lips as she opens them to say, " Don't you recognise your old friend Ruby, Dean?". As Dean's eyes go wide and he tries to pull away, Ruby holds his jaw firmly and twists, quick and deadly. Dean doesn't have a chance. He slides off his seat, collapsing onto the floor, only to be straddled by Ruby, who is leaning down towards his ear, another message to be delivered.

There is no denying the smile now. Her breath wafts across Dean's cooling flesh as she continues to his ear, leaning forward, whispering,

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, it's your turn to drive."

Dean awakens from his sleep**, **his eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of brightness. After a moment of adjusting to the light, Dean glances over at his brother, staring back at him with a slight mischievous grin on his face.

"Dude, you're drooling." The younger Winchester chuckles to himself, as he clicks another photo with his phone, "I think I'll send this one to Bobby. He loves seeing you drooling."

Dean quickly wipes his chin and settles into his chair, scowling, but sort of unsure whether he's upset at the fact that he just got by some Ruby dream bitch, or at the fact Sam caught him drooling during his rest. Shifting restlessly, he looks out the window, watching tress at the roadside fly by, gravel shooting from the tires as he contemplates the dream. _Why would I dream about Ruby?_ Dean puzzled. It didn't make any sense. It had been 3 months since she'd been sent to hell, Dean had seen to that personally, and they hadn't heard from her.

_What if she was back? What if Dean's trip to hell had altered him__**...**__changed him?__? Was he going to start getting headaches, premonitions, and black eyes?_ Suddenly the world was spinning too fast for him. Dean was spiralling downward; unsure of what was going on, unsure of where he was going, or what he could do to stop this sudden terror filling his mind.

"_My god, is this what Sammy went through while he was changing?"_

Dean needed to stop. HAD to stop. If only to calm the voices screaming in his head. He needed fresh air. He needed power in his hands. The man needed to drive.

"Sammy," Dean croaked, trying to pull himself together, "Pull over. It's time for me to drive. Plus, I need to take a leak." Sam just looked at Dean, a puzzled yet amused look in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have finished off that big gulp, Dean. You knew we were going to be driving for a while."

Dean glared at Sam, "Thanks, mom. Now, can you pull over, or should I just take the leak here?"

It didn't take long for the Impala to come to a stop, a cloud of dust rising in the air. Dean grabbed for the handle and stumbled out of the car, suddenly in agony. Not because he had to relieve himself urgently, but because of what he was thinking about Sam.

"_He had those headaches, the visions, the battle of good vs evil inside him, and he rarely complained."_ Dean walked a bit down into the ditch, found an area surrounded with weeds and unzipped his jeans letting his large cock flop out of his fly. He rarely wore any underwear, as he found it restricting on his balls, and was happy to realize he hadn't worn any today.

While he pissed, Dean found himself thinking about Sam, wondering what it was like, admiring his brother for always being so strong, so able to contain his grief. _"That guy must have some really strong shoulders to handle all this strai..."_

At that moment, Dean was grabbed roughly by the shoulders. Swinging around, cock still exposed, arms in a defensive position, Dean was instantly reminded of the time when his father took the boys into the woods, and attacked them while they were bathing in a river. He had to fight naked then, and he was damned if he was going to lose a fight naked now.

However, the face he witnessed wasn't a demon or some vicious predator. It was Sam, laughing loudly at him. " WHOA, easy Dean," his brother coaxed, "it's just me. You were taking a long time out here and I just wanted to make sure you were ok." Sam looked at him with genuine concern, taking the time to look over Dean's body, checking for damage, delaying a moment longer than he should on Dean's sizeable flaccid penis, oddly plump at the moment. Sam forced his eyes up to Dean's noticing a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Dude, that was so...so...wrong. Gimme the keys, I'm drivin'." Dean zips up, quickly yet carefully, and grabs the keys from Sam's outstretched hand, glaring at Sam as he does. "It's not a good idea to sneak up on a hunter, dude."

Sam, with a huge grin on his face, just keeps walking, pleased at himself for giving his brother a scare, something that doesn't happen too often. He opens his mouth to taunt Dean into even more shame and humiliation when he hears branches breaking. Up ahead, a few bushes part, and a young woman runs out, screaming as loud as she can.

"Dean, look at that. There's a girl running over there."

Dean quickly shifts his head, noticing a slight pain in his neck, and checks out the girl. She'd be a completely average jogger, if it weren't for the fact that she was running towards them, her shirt covered in blood, her hands flailing in fear and screaming for her life.


	2. Chapter 2 What's happening to me?

Chapter 2:

_....Dean quickly shifts his head, noticing a slight pain in his neck, and checks out the girl. She'd be a completely average jogger, if it weren't for the fact that she was running towards them, her shirt covered in blood, her hands flailing in fear and screaming for her life._

Dean inhales sharply, and as the two brothers look at each other with trepidation in their eyes, Dean reaches for the knife, while Sam steps ahead, waving his hands at the woman drenched in blood, trying to draw her closer.

As the mysterious female approaches, Dean quickly looks her over from head to toe. She's missing her shoes, her right leg is bloody and there appears to be some bone protruding under her kneecap, causing Dean to wonder how she's running with a broken leg. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, with pieces of twigs, dirt and grass mixed in, while her face is streaked with dirt, eyeliner and blood coming from a gash on her left temple.

"Be careful, Sammy. A woman running with a busted leg like that is a woman running from something bad." Dean mumbles under his breath to his younger brother, assessing the situation, and making sure the "thing" pursuing her hasn't emerged from the woods.

Sam held out his arms, letting the concern and comfort wash over his face. He'd done this many times in the past, and was thankful that, despite the demon blood within him, he was still able to connect to people on an emotional level. It made him feel as ifeverything they had been through these last few years was worth it... like people actually needed them to help. It made him feel human. He braced himself for impact, as she didn't seem interested in slowing down, still running frantically towards him.

The wind was knocked out of Sam as he was slammed into, knocked back a step, trying to hold her in place and comfort her, as she fought him, still screaming.

"Oh my god! Help ME!! You've got to help me!!! My name is Jen, Jen Black. You've got to help me, please!" she screamed, yelling as loud as she could, while being within a foot of the boys.

" Ma'am...Jen, just breathe, we'll help you. You're safe now. Please...just tell us what's happened." Sam strokes her hair, holding her tight against his flannel shirt, not worrying about the blood from her wound staining his clothing. Both he and Dean know just how washable blood is.

She continued screaming, ".Blackeyes.....smokecomingoutoftheirmouths.....how is that EVEN POSSIBLE?!? How do they have smoke coming out of their mouths? WhattheHELLisgoingON??!?!?!" The woman looked up at him, sensing her safety with this ruggedly attractive man holding her tightly, whispering soothingly in her ear. She reaches up to touch his face, to stop the illusion if he proved to be a cloud of smoke, wanting some of the calmness to seep into her essence, and reaching higher to feel his cheek, notices she is missing three fingers. Suddenly the memories came flooding back to her. She rips herself away from Sam, her screaming fit beginning again.

" Those BASTARDS!! They cut my fingers off....oh my GOD!! My fingers are gone!!!! How am I going to play piano now?!?!?!?"

Sam looked at the woman, and then back to his brother, "Dean, we've got to get her to the hospital, she's having a breakdown. Not to mention, she's bleeding and unaware her leg is broken."

Dean pulls the keys from his pocket and begins the rush back to the car, keeping his eyes alert, scanning every dark shadow, his ears attempting to hear branches cracking over the screams of the broken woman, " They kept calling me the worm... the worm on the hook. What did that mean? I'm just a secretary...this doesn't make any sense!!!"

At the mention of the worm, Dean froze, mere feet from the Impala. He turned quickly, looking towards Sam and Jen.

"Sammy?" Dean noticed the terror in his voice and tried to clear it out.

Sam, withpanic filling his eyes, glances around erratically," DEAN!! Let's get her outta the woods and into a hosp..."

Suddenly the world is filled with darkness. There is no sight, only blackness. There is no smell, only the essence of burning rubber and flames billowing in the nostrils. No taste, but the choking clouds of death, closing their lungs, making it hard to breathe... and noise...so much noise. The explosion echoes through the woods, mixed with screams, shattering glass and flames all combined in one overwhelming moment in time.

Minutes later, a recently conscious Dean picks himself slowly off the ground**,** coughing hard and brushing the dirt and debris off his jacket, wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder. As he turns his head, he glimpses a six inch shard of windshield jutting out and gently removes it, gritting his teeth to fight back the pain from the jagged material. Warm blood trickles down his arm, dripping lightly onto the ground, onto a battered looking cassette tape, hardly legible except for the words, "...pton Comes Alive". Dean curses under his breath and looks around in horror.

"Sammy?!" He shouts as best he can, but his lungs are still full of ash and flame, and raising his voice burns. He shouts again anyway, nothing matters more to him than Sam. It's at that moment, that he realizes the true cause of the explosion.

The Impala, once magnificent in its beauty, never backing down from challenge or race regardless of its age, was nowhere to be seen. Correction, it could be seen, if one squinted at the pieces. Bits of the doors, a piece of the dashboard, a lone tire upright against a boulder, the scent of burning , aged, tan leather heavy in the air, choking him, vile and disturbing. A single tear rolled down Dean's cheek, followed by a second one getting caught amidst his lengthy lashes.

Dean falls back to the ground, forgetting his wounded shoulder completely and utters a cry, loud and guttural , filling with rage as it continues. He picks up some of the gravel, squeezing it in his hands for a moment, **a ** new pain surfacing in his palm. A fresh tear of flesh, mixed with pieces of glass marked his hand, but Dean barely noticed it. He throws the gravel, as hard as he can, feeling more tears trickling down his warm cheeks, burning with rage and exposure to the flames still lingeringin the woods.

" Sam?" Dean shouts a bit louder, not caring about the tearing sensation in this throat, "Where are ya? SAMMY? Jen?" Limping around, feeling the aches and pains growing through his body after being blasted back so far, Dean looks for Sam in the nearby ditch, assessing where he might have landed based on the location in which Sam was during the blast.

As he walks around the road, calling Sam's name again and again, rage and worry building together into a greater emotion, Dean notices a small pool of blood on the ground, as well as some drag marks, leading into the woods near the explosion site. Dean's heart begins to race, his pulse quickens and he feels the sweat building on his brow again. The possibility of Sam being injured and kidnapped by some sort of random big bad was too much for Dean. He's angry and he wants to kick some ass. No, that's not accurate. He wants to rip the thing apart, piece by piece, making it suffer for the Impala being destroyed, and more importantly, for hurting Sam. No one hurts Sam.

He takes a deep, burning breath, finds his lungs completely clear now, and bellows for Sam, not caring who hears, secretly hoping that the thing involved hears him and comes running. Suddenly, a scream is heard just within the woods. The scream is loud, it's a high pitched scream, almost a squeal, and one of terror and incredible pain. Dean's own pain is gone. His body has kicked into overdrive, and runs hard into the woods, trying to find the source of the scream, secretly hoping no one has caused Sam enough pain that he would sound like that.

Another scream carries through the woods, but it's muffled, gurgled and wet. Dean continues running, but with greater caution now. His level of concern for Sam has continued to increase. Just ahead, Dean notices a clearing of the trees. Normally, the area would look quite beautiful with the cherry blossoms on the trees, budding casually on the branches. However, this clearing had splashes of deep red and black, covering the blossoms, sprayed across the grass, and a figure hanging from a tree, naked, swinging gently back and forth from one of the large branches, attached by a frayed rope. Dean's heart stopped in terror, if only for a moment, rushing forward to what appears to be the remains of a young woman... Jen's body. She'd been slashed so many times, it's hard for him to recognise her. If it weren't for the remains of her clothing on the ground, the three missing fingers and the ponytail still formed on the top of her head, Dean wouldn't be able to tell her apart from another victim.

"_Poor girl, she didn't deserve this." _ Dean reaches behind his back and pulls out the knife, the demon killer, running it through the rope, cutting Jen down, laying her gently against a tree. "Don't worry, Jen, I'll find the demons that did this to you, and when I do, I can guarantee, they will suffer."

The sharp crack of a branch behind Dean startles him and causes him to jump upwards quickly, but it isn't fast enough. A strong pair of hands grabs Dean's back. He's launched upwards into a tree trunk and with barely a moment to breathe, someone is pressing their massive body against his, warm breath with a hint of peppermint blowing on his face while a hand grips his wrist until he drops the knife onto the grass.

Dean can feel the demon's body tight against his, the contours of his hard chest, the muscles flexing beneath his shirt. Dean is helpless and pissed off. He struggles against the weight of the demon pressed against him, and groans in anger as he struggles.

"Hello Dean." The voice is low, raspy, almost a harsh whisper with a slight southern twang, the breath reeking even more of peppermint with a hint of rotting flesh underneath. "You're quite a popular man these days, though, I remember when we used to work together in hell."

Dean felt his heart stop and he tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat at the sound of the demon's voice. "Jasper..." Dean grits his teeth in disgust, "How the **hell **did a piece of trash like you get out?"

"It's the new rising, Dean my boy, everyone gets a free ticket outta hell. And speaking of hell, rumour has it you managed to get an angel to bust you out. How'd you swing that?"

A million different thoughts run through Dean's head, but only one is at the front of his mind. "Where is Sam?" He manages to get those words out before Jasper applies more pressure, crushing his body harder against Dean, slowly decreasing the amount of oxygen, making it hard to focus, while fingers claw at his shoulders, digging deeper and deeper.

Taunting him, Jasper shoves Dean's legs wider apart, forcing him off balance, with a sharp kick to the testicles. Dean is confronted with a cramping rush of pain, surging through his abdomen as Jasper wrestles him to the ground. "Don't worry about Sam, Dean. He's safe and sound in a cabin a few miles south of here. We didn't do that much to him... I mean, maybe a broken arm, fractured wrist.....personally, I'd be more concerned about you. Though, I remember you being more of a screamer than your brother." Jasper smirks as he drags his rough hands down the back of Dean's pants, groping his ass while both are on their knees, pressed against the tree. As Dean catches his breath, another blow, this time to the kidney, sends Dean into a coughing fit. Pain is flaring up all over Dean's body, being surpassed only by the hatred he feels towards this demon. Once Dean has been secured, Jasper reaches for Ruby's knife on the ground. "I've been waiting a long time to pay you back, Dean. Don't think I've forgotten what you did to me down there. "

Dean involuntarily flashes back to his time in hell, one of the first moments he tortured a soul upon Alastair's request, remembering Jasper's screams sounding higher than normal, a squeal of agony that lasted for hours as Dean slowly removed each of his fingers and toes, followed by other appendages. He remembers using Jasper's own intestines to strangle him to death. The memory of this act, repeats over and over in his mind and Dean feels disoriented. He can almost taste the scent of blood in the air.

Jasper grabs Dean by the throat and flips him around, pressing his back against the trunk, slamming Dean's head into the wood, causing blood to trickle down his strained neck. "And with this knife..." Jasper pauses, smiling into Dean's eyes, pressing his mouth right up against his ear, running the blade along Dean's arm "...I'm going to make sure I have as much fun as you did. "

"You think so? Dean slams his head to the side, head-butting Jasper, knocking him backwards and smashing his nose in three places, causing Jasper to drop the knife as he falls in front of Dean, his head at his feet. "Oh, there's no reason to worship me, Jasper... I'm not a God." Dean lands a kick to the jaw and picks up the knife.

Lifting Jasper off the ground, Dean feels an odd surge of justice pulsethrough him, almost like he was supposed to do this, like he HAD to do it. Not in self defence though, not to kill a demon... but to save Sam. He had to save Sam. With a cocky smirk, Dean bats his eyelashes at Jasper, holding the knife upwards, letting some of the sunlight glimmer off of it. Jasper's eyes widen in fear. Emotion fills his chest and his mind, the vision of various ways he could torture this demon, this piece of filth, runs through his head. Taking a deep breath, he calms himself as best he can.

"Youknow, a friend of yours gave us this knife. Petite girl, hell of a right hook, kind of a bitch, Ruby was her name. If you see her in hell, tell her Dean sent you, ok_?" _ Dean plunges the knife **i**nto the demon's throat, ignoring the smirk on the demon's face, not caring why it was happy, just wanting justice. Jasper's eyes fade, golden sparks and embers flicker from the wound and then he is gone, leaving Dean alone in the woods.

He pulls the blade from the neck, wipes the blood on Jasper's shirt and tucks it away. Taking a deep breath, Dean turns towards the direction of the cabin, and begins to sprint, hoping he's not too late to save his brother.

His rage continues to grow, offering him a clearing of other emotions, and allowing him the chance to focus on what was important. Sam. It's always Sam.

And with that thought in his mind, Dean continues on the path, limping along, his body still aching from the beating, his balls still throbbing from the savage kick, searching for clues, and occasionally spitting blood from the wound in his mouth. In the distance, Dean can see the cabin, old, rundown, splintered wood, a light on inside.

"Sammy, I'm on my way."


	3. Chapter 3 Slice and dice

Chapter 3:

_Dean can see the cabin, old, rundown, splintered wood, a light on inside. _

"_Sammy, I'm on my way."_

The light in the woods had grown dim during the run to the cabin**, **to the point that Dean had a hard time distinguishing between the shadows. He could see the cabin though, barely standing due to years of neglect, rotting away slowly.

"_Man, this place looks like a real craphole." _Lurking behind a rose bush beside **a **cracked cabin window, Dean peered inside; trying to fight against the nausea he felt at the scent of rotting wood and recently burned flesh. The room's walls were worn down, only patches of wallpaper remained, heavily stained with splashes of old blood. Along the far wall, a fireplace was lit, and the room was filled with white candles, light dancing amongst the shadows.

Sitting on a chair, arms tied behind his back, was a semi-conscious Sammy. His hair, damp with perspiration and blood, his clothes had been ravaged. Blood flowed down his arm in a steady trickle and was dripping into a chalice. Large dark marks were abundant on his chest, which accounted for the smell of charred flesh. While all this was infuriating to Dean,what broke hisheart, was the cut on Sam's face. Oozing red, it started under his left eye and ran down to his jaw. Someone had been carving. Someone had tried to take that innocence, that kindness, had tried to ruin the face which offered comfort to so many in the past. While Dean had a harder look to his face, it was Sam's that offered compassion and warmth. Dean needed that from Sam, it comforted him. Sam's face was always so full of hope and possibility, to destroy that was unforgivable. Dean's hands balled into tight fists as he gripped Ruby's knife and exhaled sharply.

There were two other men in the room. One was walking around, eyes black as night and glaring at Sam. He was smaller in stature, almost frail, and had a grandfatherly look to him if one ignored his demonic eyes. The other was taller, standing over by the front door. A dark leather jacket covered his broad shoulders and contrasted with a white ponytail that hung down to the middle of his back.

However, Dean wasn't concerned about other demons at that moment. They just appeared to be lackeys. _"Typical. Seems like every demon has a posse these days." _He muttered to himself, under his breath.

Dean saw no other threats as he glanced around the room. Sam moaned, tilting his head upward from his chest and causing everyone to take notice. Dean could only watch as the older demon walked towards Sam, raised his hand, and backhanded the injured brother across his already swollen jaw. Hard. Sam's grunt of pain was apparent to the room, causingthe demon to snicker and spit on Sam's face, rubbing saliva all over the wound on his cheek.

"_You __bastard__. I'm so gonna enjoy hurting you." _

Dean's heart drummed in his chest, his level of fury reached its peak. Throwing any thought of caution out of his mind, Dean ran full speed to the front door, and lifted his leg to smash through the ancient wood. As the door flew into the room, Dean used the sudden ferocity of the attack to grab the biker demon and plunge the knife through his throat. A stifled yelp escaped the demon's lips, demon blood erupting down his shirt. As Dean twisted the knife, he noticed the orange embers of flame from within the wound evolving into a white light. Dean felt momentarily calm, as he often did after a kill, focused and ready to do whatever was required to help others. Yanking the knife out of the body, he prepared for the next attack.

The remaining demon looked furious, body tensed, prepared to attack, and let out a howl of rage.

It was Dean's turn to laugh in a mocking tone, since he always enjoyed it when demons suffered. "Oh, sorry... did I hurt your bitch, grandpa?"

His smile replaced by a sneer, Dean lunged for the demon, blade aloft, in an effort to end the situation quickly so Sammy could get the medical attention he needed. Dean's lunge proved short-lived though, as he was blasted sideways into a wall, and flew into an old wooden end table, shattering it to pieces. Ruby's knife was knocked from his hand, and landed near the fireplace.

Dean's head smashed into the wall. Bright lights flickered and danced across his eyes and he felt disoriented. Nothing mattered though, nothing except Sammy. He'd had worse hits before and he wasn't going to let one messed-up demon keep him from staying conscious. Dean forced himself into alertness, wiped the blood from the fresh cut on the back of his head, and struggled against the power of the demon. But to no avail. He was trapped. They both knew it.

A maniacal giggle echoed through the room, one that interrupted Dean's struggles. It urged Dean to seek out it's owner, as he pondered what was so damned funny at that particular moment in time.

She walked into the room, heels clicking on the wooden floor. She'd changed. Her arms were lined with deep gashes, her once stunning, unblemished face had a trickle of blood running down the side and an obvious slash along her cheekbone, her hair was wild and untamed, and her eyes, once so blue, were now black with hatred and demonic essence.

It was a blonde woman.

A blonde woman in a red dress.

'Ruby." Dean ground his teeth, glaring at her in utter disgust_**.**_

"Hello, Dean." Her voice was softer than he remembered from the dream, yet somehow, distinctly Ruby. "It's so nice to see you again. Can I get you a drink, maybe a band-aid?" Her smirk was evident even in the dim light.

"Yah, how about a nice big glass of kiss my ass?"

Ruby's grin faded slightly, but only for a second. She leaned forward, slipped her hand down her thigh and removed a silver knife, gliding it up the fabric to her palm. Sam groaned again, causing Dean to look over at his injured brother. Sam didn't look good. The light glinted off the blade in Ruby's hand and recaptured Dean's attention.

She approached him slowly, allowing the moment to be savoured. Dean's eyes stayed on her, hatred flooding them, altering their colour to a dark hazel green. "What did you do to Sammy?"

Ruby's eyes flickered back to their pale blue colour and, for an instant**,** she looked hurt. "You know what, Dean? I just got this body and your brother ripped the crap out of it. Look at my arms. Heck, look at my face. I simply paid him back for his attack on the way here. If he had waited calmly while we dragged him to the cabin, he wouldn't be so broken up at the moment and I certainly wouldn't have cut his pretty boy face. And speaking of pretty boys..."

Ruby reached forward and unbuttoned Dean's shirt in a series of quick jerks and yanks, ripping it off and throwing it to the floor. A sudden burst of pain flowed over Dean's stomach, causing his muscles to clench. As he looked down at his stomach, Ruby went in for another small slash, this one just under his right nipple, making Dean flinch involuntarily.

"You know, I've often wondered something about you, Dean." Ruby paused, curiosity altering her face, "I mean, Sam is amazing in bed. He even showed me a few tricks."

Dean's complexion turned green while picturing his brother with a demon. "Are you getting to a point here? I mean, I've got an important meeting at 2."

"Oh Dean, even in the face of death, you are still a cocky bastard... which brings me back to my original thought. I always assumed that attitude of yours was just your way of overcompensating for something...."

Without waiting for a response, as Dean wouldn't have known what to say or do at that moment, Ruby reached down and grabbed the denim bulge in front of her, squeezing roughly. "I hope you like it as rough as Sam did, or this isn't going to be any fun at all."

Ruby continued to fondle Dean's cock through his jeans, slowly unbuttoning his fly and opening the pants, glancing inside. The expression on her face as she lifted up her head was enough for Dean to realize she was pleased and mildly amused.

"Get your demon slut hands off my dick, bitch." Dean growled, spitting on her face, which was to his own.

Ruby's smile returned to a sneer, her eyes focused back to their empty blackness. The knife was in her hand again, dragged along Dean's exposed chest, over his nipples, down his torso, sliding even lower. Warmth and pain cascaded over his body as Ruby pressed the tip of the blade hard against his stomach, twisting it slightly as she pulled it out, relishing Dean's sudden grunt of pain. The sound was enough to bring Sam to alertness. Moaning, Sam lifted his head and glanced around the room.

"Oh, Sam, you're awake. Good. I'd hoped you'd get to see this. How do you feeling about having a big sister?" Ruby flashed the knife in front of Sam, only to drag it, pressed hard along Dean's chest, firm enough to draw blood with a few surface cuts, and then down below his belly button. Feeling the blade graze along his pelvis, Dean began to thrash around, to fight with all his might to escape Ruby's power while Sam struggled against the ropes, banging around on the chair. As Ruby watched the boys in a frantic rush to break free, she decided to savour their suffering a little longer.

"You know Dean, something has been bugging me since you got here. How did you know it was me when I walked in the room? Did one of your precious angels warn you I was back?"

Dean glared back at her, unsure if he should share the truth, "I had a dream about you earlier today. You were a bitch then too."

"Yes, I may be a bitch, but at least I don't have dreams about demons or my brother's ex. You should consider getting that looked at, Dean. Though, you might want to worry about what I'm going to do next, as I suspect it's going to hurt." Ruby paused for a moment, "How about a little foreplay, Dean?"

Dean could only wait, as Ruby pressed her body against his, as her body's natural scent filled Dean's nose, the scent of cinnamon and peaches now all too familiar. She grabbed his index finger, rubbed it tenderly on her lower lip, flicked it lightly with the tip of her tongue, and then snapped it backwards, hiscryfilling the room together with the crunch of broken bone. Dean's eyes watered as he bit his lower lip. Thoughts of pure hatred radiated off him, as he tried to remain composed while Ruby repeated the process with his middle finger.

"Ruby..., I should have known you'd suck at foreplay." Dean grunted, wincing at the numbness of his hand. "No whips? No nipple clamps? I'm disappointed."

The other demon in the room had grown excited. His demon mouth filled with saliva in anticipation of what might happen next.

Dean found himself powerless to move as her fingers found their way to his bulge for a second time, only to be introduced to the cool tip of the blade running just above his dick, along his neatly trimmed pubic hair. Dean clenched his jaw, determined not to scream if possible. A random flick of her wrist caused Dean to flinch and look down as he anticipated the slice into "womanhood".

Her hands worked fast, as she dragged the bloody knife through the fabric, up and down the denim seam, causing his pants to fall in a heap at his feet. Ruby admired her handiwork. Dean's strong, muscular thighs were now exposed, flexing defensively, covered in a light dusting of blonde hair, which acted as the frame to two large shaved balls, dangling between them. However, it was the cock she was interested in, the exposed thick and flaccid uncut member. Ruby ran her fingers firmly along the shaft as she stroked his dick, "I have to admit, it's nice to see the Winchester boys are so...well-equipped. " Dean continued to stare at her, his body repeatedly testing for any weakness to Ruby's hold.

With the knife still in hand, Ruby ran the blade along the shaft, working her way up to the foreskin tip. As she glanced into Dean's eyes, she rolled his foreskin down, exposed the head of Dean's plump cock and ran the blade along the slit. Dean groaned in discomfort, and tried to fight the shiver that suddenly pulsed through his body, a shiver that sent blood into his cock, which forced it to plump up, growing to a state of semi-erectness.

Dean felt embarrassed. He was trapped by a demon against a wall, naked, while "little Jimmy" was doing the thinking, out of control, harder, longer and thicker by the second as Ruby continued to alternate between blade and fingers, her speed increasing with each stroke. He didn't know what was worse; an erection in front of Ruby and Sam, or the fact that Jimmy wouldn't stay flaccid while absolutely any attractive woman was touching him. He never thought he'd be so ashamed at his ability to get hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam. Sam had his wide eyes on Dean's cock and looked shocked at what had occurred thus far.

Knife still brandished, Ruby walked away, focused on Dean and knelt down to kiss Sam on the cheek. He looked up at Ruby, his eyes glistening with moisture, threatening to shed a tear at any moment. Even with the pain, his only thought was of Dean. "Ruby... please," Sam cleared his throat, his voice a husky whisper, "... don't do this. He's my brother...don't hurt him."

Ruby's eyes flickered back to their pale blue for a moment, "Sorry, Sammy, payback's a bitch, and your brother owes me one big cheque." She turned around and slink towards Dean, knife in hand, ready to slice.

" Ruby......Ruby PLEASE!!!!" Suddenly, there was a roar inside Sam's chest, one that exploded from his mouth. His pupils expanded, his eyes filled with blackness, while the ropes around him burned into cinders. Ruby and the other demo turned around, all eyes were on Sam. No one noticed as Dean's eyes began to lighten as well, from their hazel green to a brighter colour, fading away into pure white. Sam staggered forward, his hand raised and Dean fell to the floor, free from Ruby. Dean lifted his head off the ground, white light abundant, surrounding him, and climbed to his feet.

Sam tried to focus, letting his anger and protective nature flow through him. He took a step forward, and then dropped to his knees, so much pain coursed through his body. Ruby walked over to Sam calmly, paused to stare, then kicked him in the stomach, leaving Sam unable to breathe and with a knife held to his throat.

"Nice try, Sam, but you're not man enough to do anything right now."

"Hey!!" Dean bellowed across the cabin, his voice echoing loudly. Dean's shoulder began to burn, a white hot sense of justice pulsed through him, and he felt like he could destroy all things simply because they were evil. As he took a breath, Dean grabbed the old demon and held him by the shoulders. His hand began to glow, _"What the hell is going on with me?"_ he asked himself, unsure of what had happened to him.

Instinctively, Dean pressed his hand on the grandfather demon's forehead, demonic eyes changed from darkest night to daylight white. The cry of destruction could be heard throughout the woods as the demon was sent into oblivion, never to return.

Ruby's eyes grew wide with shock. "What the hell did you just do?" Panic floodedthrough her, unsure how to respond to the idea she was alone with unknown factors. "You Winchesterboys are way too messed up for me, I'm outta here for now, but we'll do this again, soon. You can bet on that." Black smoke billowed out of the blonde's mouth, swirled around the ceiling, then escaped out the chimney.

"Bitch, you owe me some new jeans" Dean shouted at the smoke, more for his own peace of mind than anything else, feeling satisfied at his comment.

"Dean, she's gone," Sam began to cough, as he looked up at Dean from the floor. His brother's body language was casual as he stood there, but there was fear in his eyes. Sam forced himself off the ground, and debated the one question that had been in his head for a few minutes. Looking at his brother, Sam noticed just how badly Dean had been cut. There were blood and cuts of various depths all over his body, and two of his fingers were bent at very awkward angles. The only thing that looked the same was, "Ummm, Dean,.... perhaps you should cover up the..uhhhh....your dick. I can still see it. "

It was then Dean remembered he was naked, dick still semi-erect, and began the hunt for some sort of clothing. As he glanced down, he smirked and groped his cock lightly in the direction of his brother, while he fingered the wounds on his body delicately, "You gotta admit, Ruby totally wanted a second helping of Winchester pie, dude."

Sam took another peek as Dean fondled his cock obscenely and then looked away, cheeks a bright pink as a result of being caught, and tossed his coat towards Dean. "Seriously, Dean...all kidding aside...what was that all about? The light...your....your eyes....what happened?"

A voice interrupted Sam's speech before Dean could begin to guess what happened to him, a voice that disturbed the calm of the woods, silencing the crickets, and the creaking of the floorboards under feet.

"I believe I can offer an explanation for that..."


	4. Chapter 4The final chapter

Chapter 4:

_A voice interrupted Sam's speech before Dean could begin to guess what happened to him, a voice that disturbed the calm of the woods, silencing the crickets, and the creaking of the floorboards underfoot._

"_I believe I can offer an explanation for that..." _

The brothers turned at the sudden intrusion of the voice, gravelly and familiar, yet unexpected. The man was dressed in a trench coat, black tie loosened at the neck, slight perma-stubble on the face, penetrating blue eyes staring back at them, filled with compassion. Over his arm rested a pair of dark blue jeans and a faded black t-shirt.

"Castiel." Dean acknowledged as he approached the angel confidently.

"I thought you might need these." Castiel looked over Dean's naked figure as he tossed the clothing towards Dean. "You should get dressed before you catch a cold."

Dean quickly slipped the t-shirt over his head and zipped up the jeans, taking care not to catch himself in the zipper. A flood of emotions overtook him as he replayed the last few hours of his day. Weird premonition-type dream involving Ruby, a white light exploding from the wound given by Ruby's knife, killing a demon with his bare hands...none of this made sense. Confusion and fear added themselves to Dean's already clouded mind.

"What the hell is going on here, Cas? I mean, seriously... my hands were glowing in there. I felt weird. I even off'd a demon trying to save Sammy. Now, I'm no Zelda Rubinstein, but I think I know when something funny is going on."

"Dean," Castiel took a moment to sigh, brow furrowed, and began, "this is really hard to explain as there are so many unknowns involved."

"Castiel, I'm a big boy. Don't pussyfoot around the details. Just give it to me straight."

Castiel's look sent shivers down Dean's spine. It was a look of despair and regret. Emotions were rarely seen on Castiel's face, and they were often accompanied with bad news, so Dean allowed himself the luxury of being nervous as well.

A second deep breath escaped from Castiel's mouth before he began. "Dean, when you were in Hell, rumours surfaced. These rumours spoke of two brothers bringing the apocalypse to Earth, beginning with a soul given in sacrifice for another, breaking the first seal towards the path to the End of Days. When Heaven heard this, a few of us opposed to the end of the Earth exercised all our resources, desperately seeking a way to get you out of Hell, hoping to stop you before that first seal was broken. Many attempts failed. While digging through some of the Lost Books, I found mention of a soul being rescued from the depths of Hell by offering a sacrifice." Castiel paused.

Dean's mouth was open, while his heart beat rapidly and suspense tore at him. He never enjoyed the waiting aspect of life and this was hard.

"The sacrifice was a percentage of an angel's Grace, their essence, their very soul. It was a painful procedure, but I willingly offered it in an attempt to save you, and it's had some interesting results for both you and me, as you've noticed today. I'm sorry Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean took a moment to process his thoughts, his mind whirling. "You mean, I've got your Angel mojo running through me?" Dean shuddered slightly, unsure if he wanted this confirmed.

"Do you doubt my words?"

"No, I guess not. I suppose the big question is, when do I get those wings? Someone torched my car and I don't have enough frequent flyer miles to travel around." His words were cold, still struggling to get over the damage to the Impala and the desire to stab Ruby repeatedly.

As often is the case, Castiel just looked at Dean, not quite understanding if he was supposed to laugh, or to explain further. Sometimes one of the most frustrating things about Dean was how often he could be sarcastic. Castiel knew that Dean was frustrated, and so he offered a change of subject and walked over to Sam.

"These wounds are quite bad. Would you like me to heal you?"

Sam, still caught up in his own discomfort, pain, and the sudden realization that he wasn't the only Winchester who's different, just nodded his head. Cas raised his hand and held it over Sam's forehead. Slowly, his hands glided over the wounds on Sam's face, along his arms and body, tracing over the scars. A quick flash of light burst from Castiel's hand, following his motions, illuminating the injuries with warmth. After a moment, the light faded, new pink skin replacing the various injuries that covered Sam's body. A contented sigh escaped Sam's lips, muscles flexing briefly, testing the healed flesh. Dean watched, observing his brother's face as it returned to its kind and youthful appearance, so distracted by the transformation that he didn't realize his body no longer ached.

"Dean, would you be inter...." Castiel paused, distracted by Dean's body and the lack of injury and blood. "I guess you've got greater ability than I suspected. Interesting." Dean just inspected the areas where his wounds were, feeling nothing but slightly tender flesh.

"I guess it's one of the perks of being some sort of crazy angel half-breed. Now, seriously... when do I get my wings?" A modicum of humour escaped Dean's lips and for a moment, he was thankful that he hadn't lost his ability to be emotive like other angels he'd met in the past.

Ignoring the question, Castiel walked east, and beckoned the boys do the same. As they passed through the brush down a worn pathway, no-one spoke. To Dean, the world was suddenly very big and he felt alone. Different. He felt unique, and not in the good way. He was a freak. No wonder Sam had such a hard time when he was developing his demonic powers.

Dean's thoughts were cut short when Castiel led them to a clearing in the woods. On the edge of the clearing was an old broken-down jeep that had been used recently judging by the fresh mud on the tires. Castiel looked back at the boys: "Take this for now, and head to Bobby's in the morning. We've been discussing a few theories lately, and with Ruby's recent emergence in the world, I suspect Bobby would like to talk with you. I've got to go see what I can find out." With that, Castiel vanished from sight.

Dean was tired and suggested that Sam drive the first shift. Sam didn't argue. He simply got behind the wheel and started driving, brow furrowed in concern for his brother, remembering a similar situation a few years ago.

They drove through the woods, following the old path, beaten into the ground by 4-wheelers and off-road vehicles. Minutes flowed together; time became an idea, merely a suggestion to Dean. His mind felt full, stuffed to the brim with information he wasn't sure how to process. He didn't know where they were headed. In fact, he didn't even realize they had stopped driving until Sammy tapped him on the shoulder.

As he climbed out of the stolen jeep, the world seemed heavy, altered, as if he suddenly saw things clearly. The neon lights of the motel felt cheap and undignified, the gravel crunching under his shoes triggered a feeling of being able to crush a world with his bare hands. It was too much for him. He needed a break.

Checking into the seedy motel room #14, Dean surveyed the beds. "Sammy, I think I'm going to take a shower, check out and see if I have any bruises." Sam just watched with concern in his eyes, as his older brother shuffled into the bathroom. The click of the bathroom doorknob was audible in the silence, despite Dean's attempt to be quiet.

Dean slowly stripped off his clothing, tensing and testing his muscles, preparing himself for discomfort. When he found none, he stood in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. It was the same strong torso, the same light dusting of hair on his stomach, the same muscular thighs, same cock. Even his eyes...same colour, same shape, only a bit red from stress, looked back at him. He was still Dean Winchester on the outside, and with that realization he began to cry lightly into his hands, sitting naked on the edge of the tub. He felt so powerless.

There was a shuffling noise outside the door, followed by a knock. Dean quickly wiped his eyes and responded, only to hear the reply, "I'm gonna get some food. You want me to get you a cheeseburger or something?" The thought of eating something now seemed ridiculous, but Dean was hungry and it was rare he turned down food. "Sure, Sammy." He choked, clearing his throat as he continued, "see if you can get some fries too, huh?"

With that, Dean heard steps walking away from the bathroom and the room door close. He stood up, grabbing a towel off the wall, setting the flow of water to hot. Within a few seconds, the steam began to rise in the bathroom, and Dean stepped in. The warm water cascaded down his body, turning slightly muddied as it removed the dirt and dried blood from his torso and thighs, mixing with the suds from the cheap motel soap.

Dean drifted, trying to relax within the steam and heat. Soon he was gone, far from the shower, away from the events of the day, away from everything. He was at peace. He saw light, felt warmth, joy, and happiness. With his eyes closed, he could hear his mother humming a lullaby, watching over him, offering comfort. He was safe. His dad was there, Sammy was there, even Bobby was sitting in the background, all surrounding him with support. He turned to look at Sam, knowing this was a dream. Sam was smiling.

Suddenly, the smile, the face, the light darkened. A cold chill ran through Dean. Sammy's eyes shifted to the blackest black, soulless and evil. He raised his hand and John flew across the room, bursting into flames as he flew. His mother jumped in front to save him, but she was thrown into Bobby, both smashing through a nearby window, their screams echoing in the night. As Dean stood there, he felt helpless, watching the corpse of his father burn, watching his brother walk towards him, a look of pure demonic hatred in his eyes. Sam's hand sent him flying into the wall, smashing a mirror into pieces.

"Dean, you can't stop me. You're weak. You're nothing special, just some guy with a bit of angel funk in him." Sam's face twisted into a truly grotesque mask of hatred. It was a vision of pure evil. It slowly melted into Ruby's face, then Meg's, then Bella's, then Azazel's.

"Sammy, I will protect you, no matter what the cost." Dean blinked his eyes, preparing to fight back. When they opened, Dean was back in the shower. The steam had long since dissipated and the water was bordering on freezing. He quickly jumped out, cursing the cold water, and looked back into the mirror as he dried himself off, trying to work heat back into his skin.

Rather than see his own reflection in the mirror, he saw Sam's...Sam smiling at him, his eyes still black. Visions of having to fight his brother, stopping him when he lost control, flooded his mind. Before Dean knew it, his arm reacted instinctively, and his fist smashed into the mirror, shards of glass raining down into the sink, knuckles bleeding through chunks of mirror in his hand.

The door flew open and Sam was beside him in a moment. Dean just looked at his hand, angel abilities already healing the injury, pain subsiding gradually. "Sammy, how'd you get in?"

"Dean, we pick locks on a daily basis. It took me 5 seconds... anyways, I heard glass smash. What the hell happened in here? Are you ok?"

As the last piece of glass popped out, with new skin covering the wound, Dean found himself stretched to the limit. He could no longer handle this. It had all happened too fast. He looked up at Sam, stared into those kind eyes, not black, but green with hazel flecks, noticed the concern and fear in his brother and broke down. Dean didn't think Sam should see this, but it was far too overwhelming. As the tears began to flow down his face, he opened his mouth to speak, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, but unsure of how it would come out.

"No Sam, I'm not ok.... I can't HANDLE this shit anymore! I don't want to be a FUCKING angel! I don't want to save the world. I lost my fucking car today, got stabbed a few times, watched my brother get chopped up like a Virginia ham by his ex-girlfriend, and all I can do is think about the future and what all this new stuff means. I mean, Sammy, I'm a fucking angel/human MUTT! I get cut open and it heals! I get visions. Hell, for all I know, white light shoots out my ass when I take out a demon! It's shit, and I just want it to stop! I don't want to be a freak!"

Dean instantly regretted saying that last statement out loud but he couldn't control himself. He looked up at Sam, the one person he thought he could always count on, and hoped he didn't see disappointment or fear in his eyes. Instead, he saw forgiveness and understanding.

He opened his mouth to continue screaming, letting all his rage flow out in bursts, but was interrupted by a pair of strong arms that wrapped themselves around him, pulling him closer, pressing him against a broad, firm chest. It was Sam, always trying to help, understanding what others need. Dean felt himself melt a bit inside his own chest, but his rage continued on. He thrashed against Sam's chest, struggling to get himself loose.

Sam continued to hold on, hoping to comfort Dean until he was calm enough to speak about this rationally. He remembered a few years ago, when he had to confront a similar problem, as the demon essence inside him manifested and grew, altering him. Sam had no-one to hold him back then. There were nights where he'd hoped that Dean would come over to him, comfort him, and understand just how scary it was to be different. He wanted to be held on those nights, made to feel more like a human and less like a freak. And now, with Dean struggling against him, Sam felt a strong desire to comfort him, more than that...a desire to care for him. He wanted to make sure Dean knew everything was going to be alright. He did the one thing he knew would work, no matter how odd it seemed in his mind.

He kissed Dean.

Tenderly.

Slowly.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he did this. It just felt like the right thing to do. All his life, Dean took care of him, and he felt this was the one thing he could do for Dean that would allow him to know he had the support of his brother. Dean's thrashing stopped the moment Sam's lips touched his own. As his lips pulled off Dean's, Sam began to think logically. He'd just kissed his brother. It wasn't a friendly peck on the cheek either. It was a tender, soft kiss, one that he used to share with Jessica when she was crying over the loss of her father. It seemed wrong, but it felt right. Sam hesitated, letting Dean go as he watched the reaction, his eyes red from crying.

When Sam's lips touched Dean's, there was no more rage for Dean. His world felt calm again. Dean looked at his brother in a different light, his face flashing through confusion and then understanding. Sam was someone who understood completely. He's part demon, or had been. He'd been through the whole experience and survived, still just as kind and caring as possible. When things got rough for Dean, when he needed someone to listen, Sam would be there to lend an ear.

_But the kiss...what the heck was that? _Dean wasn't gay, he knew that. There were many women in the world who could vouch for his love of fucking, women with smiles on their faces as they recalled wild sex and multiple orgasms with the eldest Winchester. He'd been with so many women, and loved it. It was part of who he was. Having said that, even though he was angry and ready to destroy the world a few moments ago, part of him was now strangely pleased and aroused that Sam had kissed him. The towel around his waist seemed just a bit tighter after that kiss.

He looked at Sammy, who looked scared and excited at the same time, and licked his lips. "Awww, what the hell," Dean thought to himself. He grabbed Sam's head and pulled his lips closer. The embrace was longer this time, more about passion than kindness. Dean began to lose control of his thoughts and gave in to the embrace. Sam lifted Dean slightly off the ground, wrapping his arms around his torso, while Dean's fingers found their way to Sam's hair, kneading gently, but with a hunger he hadn't known was possible.

As they kissed, Dean's towel slowly came undone, thanks to the growing erection underneath. Soon, Dean was completely naked, standing there, kissing Sam as passionately as he had ever kissed another person. He felt an urge and began to grind against Sam. A guttural moan escaped his lips into Sam's mouth as his fully erect dick rubbed against Sam's growing bulge.

Sam pulled back after feeling the hardness of Dean and his own cock, straining in his jeans, and looked at his brother. "Dean, what are we doing?" he asked breathlessly, as his eyes ventured down Dean's stomach, taking a quick glimpse at what looked like seven inches of hard dick pressed against his pants.

"I dunno Sam, but I need this."

With that comment, Sam's own lust overpowered his rational mind. He grabbed Dean's face and began kissing him harder, tongues rubbing against each other, each exploring the other's mouth. Together they stumbled back to the bed, Dean's naked body landing upon the mattress first, with Sam's following on top of him. Dean winced at the sudden weight landing on him, but didn't want to break the kiss. His hands caressed Sam's body, starting with his hair, then moving lower and ever lower, until they discovered a large bulge in Sam's pants.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, Dean looked down. "Sammy, did you pack a gun in your boxers?" Sam just smiled nervously. "Nope, that's my dick, Dean. I'm kinda hard at the moment, in case you hadn't noticed."

Dean had noticed. In fact, a sudden curiosity blossomed in him. He'd never thought about Sam in a sexual way before, and he found himself turned on at discovering just how big his cock was. He'd seen him naked in the shower plenty of times, and he'd caught him with morning wood before, but this was different. This time, he was the cause of the hard-on, and he was curious to compare it to his own exposed member. "Sammy, stand up for a second."

As Sam lifted himself off his brother's body, standing at the edge of the bed, Dean's hands found their way to the jean zipper. He eagerly unzipped it, pulled the button open, and leant forward as he yanked both denim and boxer down. He tugged so fast that Sam's cock got caught and slapped Dean on the lips as it was released, accidentally rubbing a bit of precum on Dean's face.

"Well," Dean began, as he noticed Sam blush, "I guess that's what I get for being interested."

Without exactly meaning to, Dean began comparing his cock to Sam's. While Dean's dick was long and slightly girthy, Sam's dick was that much more. It had to be over eight-and-a-half inches in length, and looked like a real handful. Plus, Sam had foreskin, partially exposing the head of his cock, which made it look thick and shiny as his precum slowly oozed its way down.

He found himself wondering what it would feel like to have a dick that big in his hands. Dean paused, confused at this most recent thought. He'd never had an urge to touch another cock, let alone Sam's. Was his need to feel human so powerful that he just needed contact, any contact? Would he be doing this with just about anyone at the moment? None of this was making sense. He looked up at Sam again, losing himself in his eyes and realizing that he didn't really care. For some reason, being with Sam DID make sense. Having that support, however it came, made him feel whole again. It wouldn't work with just anyone. It HAD to be Sammy.

He smiled at Sam, then looked back down at the rigid cock in front of him. "I guess we know who the big brother is now, eh, Sammy? But don't forget --- you may be hung larger, but you're still a dick and I'm still better looking." Sam laughed and continued to look at Dean, silently wondering if Dean would offer his cock some release. He was so horny that it wouldn't take more than a few strokes before he came. He'd have to be careful.

Dean just stared, watching as Sam's cock stayed completely rigid, no sign of losing its hardness, precum continuing to bead and leak from the head. A hunger was upon Dean, he wanted to touch it. Hell, he wanted to taste it. He leaned forward, reaching out to take the base of Sam's massive dick in his hand. Dean applied some pressure, and slowly pulled Sam's cock towards him, his hand sliding along the thick shaft. He felt the foreskin move with him, now covering Sam's head completely, and noticed the large drop of precum land on his wrist.

He left the drop there, and chose to stick his tongue out, sliding the foreskin back as far as it would go, exposing the head of Sam's girthy manhood completely. Closer and closer, Dean's tongue continued forward, stopping an inch away, as he inhaled the scent that was overpowering his senses. He'd never craved anything so much as he craved this cock. The smell was a mixture of Sam's musk, and raw sex. It was intoxicating to Dean. He couldn't hold back any longer. His tongue darted forward, making contact with Sam's penis.

His first lick was tentative, running up below the head, along the back, tasting that droplet. It sent him over the edge. The next lick was pure desire. After the third lick, Dean added his lips, wrapping them completely around Sam's penis head, struggling with the thickness of the head. He didn't care though. Whatever Dean Winchester wanted, he made it happen. His mouth opened wider than he thought possible, and suddenly, Sam's cock was engulfed.

His tongue bathed over it, taking the time to caress every contour of the cockhead, running along the frenulum, swirling under the head. Dean was rewarded with a loud, erotic moan from Sammy, which only made Dean harder. Clearly he was doing a good job and Dean liked that a lot. It was time to step things up a bit.

Dean began to alternate his movements, switching between swirling his tongue and bobbing his head. As he continued to do this, Dean found hands on his head, guiding him, pushing him down a bit lower with each bob, encouraging him to take more and more of the cock. He was happy to oblige. Dean was always a big fan of getting a good blowjob, so he wasn't surprised that he also enjoyed giving one.

Pushing on Sam's thighs, Dean guided his brother down onto the bed, and spread his strong thighs wide apart so he could really suck. Sam's breath became faster and heavier as Dean explored the length. His hands found their way to Sam's balls and he began to fondle them as well, which resulted in a noticeable shiver from Sam. It was so noticeable that Dean stopped and gazed into Sam's eyes. What he saw, was no trace of evil. It was just Sam, licking his lips, brow wrinkled, looking back at him, eyes willing him to keep going.

"Sammy, I want you to do something for me." Dean lay on his side, as he ran his hands over both hard dicks. "I want you to fuck me. No...I NEED you to fuck me."

Sam was off the bed in a second, lust exchanged for worry and anger. "Dean, are you crazy? I mean, what if I hurt you? I mean, you've seen how big I am. I had a hard enough time with Jessica and we dated for a while."

"It's ok, Sammy. We'll just take it slow, and you can make me breakfast in the morning." Dean licked his lips suggestively at the thought of breakfast. "Trust me, I can handle it. Come back onto the bed."

Sam looked sceptical, so Dean got up and went to his bag, grabbing a small bottle of lubricant and a lubed condom. Walking back to the bed, his own hard dick bounced up and down. The sight of the cock wagging like a tail made Sam smile and he remembered how good Dean's mouth felt on his inches. He lay on his side and Dean crawled over to him, handing him the supplies. "These will help make it easier to take you," Dean said with a mocking grin.

As Dean laid back and spread his legs, Sam glanced down at him. Naked, slightly tanned, just a hint of hair that ran down his body to his light brown pubic hair, cock VERY erect and begging for attention. Sam found himself intrigued. He'd never done anything like this with another man. He'd never even fucked ass before.

He applied a small amount of lube to his fingers and started to rub around Dean's hole. It was slow and gentle, experimental for both brothers. The light touch on Dean's hole sent him back to a memory of a blowjob from this waitress in Texas, who actually fingered his ass, claiming it would be a rush while she blew him. While he forgot her name, he never forgot how it felt having a finger running around his hole, occasionally applying some pressure.

While lost in that memory, Sam added a bit more lube to his fingers and began to press directly on the hole. He stopped momentarily, added some lube to his other hand and began to massage Dean's cock as he continued to finger him. The combination of the two acts sent a rush through Dean, sufficient to make him leak a significant amount of precum. Sam took this as a good sign and began pushing, ever more forcefully, watching as the hole opened up for him, watching as two of his fingers began to work their way inside. As they entered his asshole, Dean inhaled sharply. But Sam didn't stop. He continued to push deeper, watching as the first knuckle disappeared, then the second one. Soon, he had two fingers completely inside. He held them there while continuing to stroke Dean's cock.

Dean was in ecstasy. This was better than anything anyone else had ever done. The sensation of being filled by something was overwhelming in the best possible way. He started to grind on the fingers, hoping Sam would take the hint and begin fucking his ass. It was a tight feeling, a warm sensation, but something that he was quickly learning to appreciate.

Sam began to work the fingers in and out of Dean's accommodating asshole, making sure they were well lubed, while Dean began to moan loudly, closing his eyes. As his moans increased, so did the speed of the finger fucking. Sam found himself unable to contain his desire to fuck Dean, and actually positioned himself so that his cock was rubbing against the crack of Dean's ass.

"How do you feel, Dean? Are you ok?"

"Sammy, stop being a little bitch. This feels amazing! Don't stop."

Sam slid his fingers out of Dean's ass and paused. Dean opened his eyes long enough to see Sam reach for the condom, gently apply it to the tip of his cock, and roll it carefully down his shaft. Dean's eyes grew wide as he realized he was really going to get fucked, and likely fucked deeply. The anticipation was almost too much for him.

"I'll show you who's being a little bitch, Dean," Sam said, while covering the condom in lube. Dean sat up, nervous for the first time, finally realizing that Sam had a very big dick, and that it might be a bit ambitious to try for the first time.

"Ummm, Sammy....maybe we sho....." Dean was cut off mid-sentence as Sam pressed hard against his hole; so hard that he forced himself halfway inside Dean. The air was sucked out of Dean's lungs. It hurt, and was much bigger than the fingers he had inside him moments ago. Sam just watched Dean, silently amused as he adjusted to this new size filling his ass.

"What were you saying about being a bitch, Dean?" Sam asked, cockily.

Dean just mumbled and inhaled deeply as Sam started to push again. Now that his cock-head was inside, it was easier for both of them. Sam found less resistance as he worked his way slowly within him, running over Dean's prostate, which caused Dean to moan far louder than he expected. Dean found pleasure in the sensation of being opened wide, stretched out, and explored. Just when he thought there couldn't be any more cock left, Sam stopped pushing forward. Dean could feel Sam's balls pressed against his cheeks. He was ready. So was Dean.

With nothing more than a glance, Sam started thrusting in and out of Dean, slowly at first, then increasing speed. Each time he thrust, Dean felt a jolt of pleasure rush through him as Sam's thick cock-head teased his prostate. It was a sensation he hoped never to forget. As Sam grew more eager, Dean found himself matching the thrusts forward with thrusts of his ass back onto the huge cock that was invading his ass. Sam's eyes closed, lost in the moment of fucking something so tight, so desirable, and for a moment, all that could be heard was the slapping of flesh on flesh, balls against ass cheeks, and heavy breathing.

Lifting Dean's legs onto his shoulders, Sam found this new position allowed him to penetrate Dean even deeper, resulting in a volley of grunts of pleasure from both of them. With friction building, arousal nearing its peak, it wasn't long before Dean realized he was going to blow his load. Each thrust pushed him closer and closer. He looked up at Sam hovering inches over him, wrapped his hands in Sam's sweat-laden hair, and pulled him close. As their lips met, Dean felt an electric surge rush through him and he knew he couldn't contain himself any longer.

Crying out into Sam's mouth, Dean began to cum. It started as a tingle, then gained momentum and force until it shot out of his cock, all over Sam's torso. Dean felt the urge to stop Sam from fucking, but knew that if Sam stopped, his orgasm wouldn't be as intense. This orgasm was powerful. Sam felt the wetness, and realized that the tightness of Dean's ass post-orgasm was too much for him. He thrusted hard, bodies rocking back and forth, becoming one sexual being; and at that moment, he forced his raging hardness as deep inside as he possibly could. The resulting rush was so intense that Sam began to shoot his load inside the condom. He continued to pump hard, feeling wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure wash over him. And he kept on kissing Dean, their lips together, never breathing apart, breathing through their noses.

Eventually, the thrusting slowed, the kissing became tender and Sam slid his cock out of Dean's well-fucked asshole. A moment of emptiness came upon Dean, but then it was gone. Sam threw the condom in the trash and wrapped his arms around Dean's naked body, holding him close, kissing Dean's neck and earlobe. Dean had never felt more alive, more human. He was happy, he was carefree, and for that moment in time, nothing else mattered to him. They both fell asleep within mere moments.

The next morning...as Dean awoke, he felt strong, scarred arms around his shoulders, holding his naked body tight against a firm and muscular frame. His first reaction was to struggle, to figure out why he was naked in a strange room with a nude someone pressed against him. Then he inhaled and smelt the musk. A mixture of cotton, cinnamon, and sun invaded his nostrils, and he felt safe. That familiar scent, one that he'd had in his life for years, equalled comfort, trust, and protection. He was home. He was safe. He was human.


End file.
